Taking a look at the flawed book, it could have been a perfectly decent book. No strange directions and characters doing things that make sense but aren’t right. So now I’m almost done, and it works, thank God. Didn’t listen to the girls in the basement (speaking of which, isn’t Barbara O’Neal doing splendidly nowadays? I love it when a friend hits the big time.) I just didn’t listen to myself this time. I have no idea how that happened – in the past when I’ve gone in the wrong direction I catch it in a chapter or two. Went back to before they had sex and changed it completely and then everything began to fall into place. and realized I simple had to throw out that last third of the book (Oh, the humanity!) I did. to one side for a couple of weeks, and read the next thing I was going to work on. So, okay, my career was over, the book I wanted to get back to was going to suck and I’d hate it and if this miserable experience was my writing life from now on then I was going to say fuck it and quit.įortunately I have people like Crusie and Lynda Ward to talk me down. Now when I finish a book I zoom through it, because everything’s coming together and the action is high and I usually write at least 10,000 words straight (Which is about 4-5 hours work if the words are coming). I really got worried when I wrote the end – I did at at a rate of 500 words a day. I spent the next month or so finishing the book, working so slowly I was afraid I’d lost my mojo. And when they finally did, I was left feeling … meh. It changes everything in a story, it’s immensely important, and yet I couldn’t make my couple do it. It’s central to my adult love stories – if characters have sex I want to hear about it. And unlike some of my prissier sisters, I love to write sex. Because I rewrote the 2/3 of a book that I had, and finally got to the love scene, and it took me days to get them in bed. Just sit at the typewriter and open a vein. You know all those rules about writing? Apply the seat of your pants to the seat of the chair.
I may have baked everything under the sun, but I did not want to write, even though I had a book that was two-thirds done. So what’s been happening to me while the world has been falling apart (at this point I will keep away from politics – just know I’m as bleeding-heart liberal bordering on anarchist that you can imagine)? Anyway, Covid hit and I’m been locked in the house with my gorgeous husband of 45 years with nowhere to go.
Maybe I actually write something every Monday. I keep making promises and utterly failing, but I’m always hopeful. So, okay, we know I’m terrible at keeping this blog up to date.
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